


Purpose

by silkencrow



Series: One Step at a Time [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Healing, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Idiots in Love, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Protective Dean Winchester, Supportive Sam Winchester, but they don't know it yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:22:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27194371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silkencrow/pseuds/silkencrow
Summary: Dean is worried about Cas, which is nothing new. He's tried everything else he could think of, but none are taking. There's one thing he hasn't tried, but he's not sure if it's the right decision. Dean's all out of options though, and he refuses to give up on Cas.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: One Step at a Time [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1931116
Comments: 1
Kudos: 65





	Purpose

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2 of the series, yay! Don't worry the pre-relationship tag will go away soon I promise!  
> Allons-y

Dean knew that he wasn’t the poster boy for dealing with shit in a healthy way, but even he had to admit that Cas wasn’t handling being human well. The former angel barely slept, and although Dean had tried to reassure him that it was  _ necessary  _ and  _ normal _ , Cas was still reluctant to do it.

But it was getting to the point where the man could barely focus. Cas was practically falling asleep at any point in the day, and although Cas enjoyed food, he usually dismissed it with a claim of not being hungry. Sam wants to host an honest to god intervention, but Dean remembers the broken look in Cas’ eyes when he thought Dean wanted him to leave. An intervention might just as easily make Cas feel like he’s being attacked, and that was the farthest thing from what Cas needed.

“Hey, Sammy, can I ask a favour?” Sam was sitting at the kitchen table, face so close to his laptop that Dean worried he’d smack his head against the screen.

Sam didn’t even look up as he replied distractedly. “Yeah?”

Dean was well aware, just by the pale sheen to his brother’s complexion and his blood shot eyes, that Sam had stayed up all night doing research. The latest case had them both confused, some creature that seemed a mix between a Wendigo and a Ghoul, and Sam was determined to find out what it was. They all were, but Sam had a tendency to obsess like a true nerd.

“I’ve decided to have a shotgun wedding with a runaway circus clown, and we’ve adopted a pet raptor whom I’ve named Galactor,” Dean deadpans. Sam hums in agreement, clearly not paying attention. Dean waits. It takes almost a full minute, but Sam’s brow eventually furrows and then he’s jerking his head in Dean’s direction, a look of utter confusion on his face.

“Wait, what?” he asks incredulously. Dean bellows a laugh. 

“Wake up there, Samantha. I need your help with something.”

“Jerk,” Sam looks annoyed at being amused, and Dean lives for that, “What do you want?”

Dean takes a deep breath before jumping in. He’s thought about this a lot, almost as obsessively as Sam has been pouring over the lore. Cas has been getting worse, the circles under his eyes making him look gaunt and sickly. If Dean hadn’t been the one to take him for a check-up at the local hospital, he’d assume the man was sick with something.

Cas wasn’t suffering from any physical ailments. No, his problems were soul deep. Dug into the marrow.

And Dean didn’t know what else to do.

“I want to start training Cas to come hunting with us.”

The shock on Sam’s face was a little surprising. He’s expected his brother to be wary of the idea, maybe even a little mad, but by the look on Sam’s face he clearly never thought Dean would say that. 

“Why?” Sam mutters, then waves his hand as though to toss the question aside. “No, scratch that. Actually, what the hell?”

“Look Sammy, he’s been cooped up in the bunker for months now and I think some fresh air would do him some good.” Sam’s expression turns even more confused and disbelieving.

“Fresh air?” Sam needles. “Dean, a walk outside is ‘fresh air’, not almost getting killed by a vampire or something!”

“Sammy,” Dean tries to keep his voice level, “we wouldn’t just throw him at a nest all on his own. We would start small - you can’t tell me that we wouldn’t benefit from a break from the harder cases - and help him get into the swing of things. He’s far from weak.”  _ Usually _ , his brain supplies unhelpfully. 

But that’s why this is a good idea. Cas is used to fighting, and at this point, maybe fighting was what he needed.

“Dean,” Sam says like Dean’s a distraught witness to a murder, on the edge of going crazy, “Cas...I don’t think he’s in the right frame of mind to be going on hunts. And - and I mean he’s so used to being an angel who can just smite things, but now…”

Dean knows,  _ he knows _ , that Sam is just being cautious and concerned in his own way. Yet, he can’t help the cold fury that roars through his veins at the implication that Cas is somehow broken beyond repair. 

“Cas is dealing with some shit - I mean the guy was a celestial being! You can’t expect him to be okay right away, or even after a year. That’s why I think this is a good idea, you know, this’ll be the closest thing to being a warrior of heaven. If I was in his shoes, I wouldn’t be okay with suddenly...not fighting.” Dean’s voice trails off slightly at the end at the raised eyebrows that Sam is shooting his way. 

“Cas isn’t you. How do you know if that’s what’s best for him? Shouldn’t you ask him first?”

“Sam. Of course I’m going to ask him, but I wanted to talk to you about it first because we need to work together on this. I -” Dean breaks off, a swell of emotion and stress making his voice heavy and rough. He takes a deep breath, scrubs a hand roughly over his face, takes another deep breath that rattles his chest.

“I don’t know what else to do,” Dean whispers, forcing himself to lock eyes with Sam, “I don’t know if this will help him, but I’m worried and this was the only solution I could come up with.”

Dean hates the vulnerability in his own voice, hates Sam just a little for giving him an understanding look, but most of all he hates himself. Cas is suffering and Dean is practically useless; his only solution the same as always. Hunting and more hunting. 

“Okay,” Sam sighs, “I guess I don’t have any better ideas, but we have to make sure he knows that he doesn’t have to. He shouldn’t feel obligated to hunt just because he lives with us.”

“I know, Sammy. I’ll go get him right now actually. The sooner we start the sooner we can get him used to it. He’s probably in the library, like another nerd I know.” The attempt to lighten the mood works if Sam’s bitchface is anything to go by. 

“Whatever, jerk,” Sam scoffs.

“Bitch!” Dean yells on his way out. “And make another pot of coffee!”

He hears some indistinct grumbling but figures Sam is in need of it just as much as he is. The walk to the library is short, but long enough that Dean can feel tension start to seep into his frame. He doesn’t think Cas will be opposed to hunting with them, but he is worried about Cas taking Dean’s concern the wrong way. Dean doesn’t think Cas is weak, doesn’t want Cas to think he thinks that, but at the same time Dean wants the man to know that he - they - care about him. 

Cas is exactly where Dean thought the other man would be, nose in a book and a frustrated scowl nestled along his brow. Ever since Cas became human, Dean has noticed some of the rigidity fall away from him. He slouches sometimes now, yawns, sniffles, rubs at a spot behind his ear when he has a headache - like he’s doing right now. All the minute things that he never used to do are slowly showing up. The human mannerism that angels just didn’t do.

Dean used to always feel like Cas the Angel was an entity that hovered just out of reach. Yeah, he let Dean call him Cas and let them be somewhat familiar, but in the end he was eternal and they were just humans.

Things were different now. Cas was different now.

Dean wasn’t trying to be sneaky, but he knew his steps were almost soundless. It came with years of practice at being quiet and having to light on his feet. Despite that, Cas looks up as he walks in, like he heard him coming from a mile away.  _ Good to know he’s still got some angel instincts. _

“Hello, Dean,” Cas murmurs. He sounds tired, which is nothing new with him, but it strikes hard at Dean’s heart. He ignores the dull pain in his chest and smiles wide.

“Hey, Cas, whatta you up to?” Dean doesn’t mean to start with that, but he feels the sudden need to just  _ talk  _ to Cas. To just be here with him, and listen to whatever nerd shit he has to say.

“Well,” Cas sighs, finally pausing in rubbing behind his ear. Dean doesn’t even think the other man is aware he does that. “I was trying to look into Wendigo deaths to see if malevolent energy could somehow alter the spirit after death, but so far I’m not finding any lore on it.” He sighs again. “Has Sam made any progress with his theory yet?”

Dean had no idea what his brother’s theory was but with how he looked in the kitchen the answer was pretty clear. 

“No, he’s still stumped.” Dean flops down into the plush reading chair next to Cas with a groan. Sam had insisted on them, because he said his back hurt from sitting in the ‘library chairs’ for hours on end. Dean would die before he told Sam, but the new chairs were actually really comfy. Dean had no idea how Cas didn’t fall asleep in them. 

“You get any sleep last night?” Dean doesn’t want to ask, mostly because he doesn’t want to make Cas upset, but he also wants to know. Cas merely shrugs in answer, closing the book in his lap and tossing it lightly onto the end table. 

“Yeah me too,” Dean says, partly to fill the silence and partly because it’s true. He sees Cas look at him in his periphery. The staring is one thing that hasn’t changed about Cas. The intensity isn’t quite the same as when he was an angel, probably because the element of ‘I could kill you with a thought’ isn’t present anymore. The man still has trouble with personal space too, but he’s markedly better about that now. 

“Are you not sleeping well, Dean?” 

“Nah, but don’t worry about me,” Dean laughs and turns his head to meet Cas’ stare. Dean has always had trouble looking away once he was caught up in Cas’ blue, which was why he usually avoided it altogether. Dean felt that pain in his chest flair up again at the dull sheen cast like a film over Cas’ eyes. 

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Dean blurts out, making a split second decision, “that - if you wanted to - you could start coming with Sam and I on hunts.”

Dean has to hold himself rigid so that he doesn’t visibly cringe at his own stupidity. He should have waited until Sam was there, and seeing the astounded look on Cas’ face made him wish he could take his words back.

“I mean - you,” Dean coughed, “you don’t  _ have  _ to hunt with us, we’re not trying to recruit you into it or anything like that. I just thought - we thought - you know, it might be nice to get out and get back into a routine.” God, Dean wanted a demon to show up right now and kill him. He wasn’t usually this bad with words, but the way Cas was looking at him was making him nervous and dammit, if he was going to make a fool of himself he might as well go all in.

“I know things have been hard, after losing your angel mojo, but I think it would be good to get into hunting. It’s far from enacting God’s justice or whatever, but...I don’t know…” Dean trails off nervously. He’s already fucking this up. He should have just waited and had Sam there to step in when Dean’s brain-to-mouth filter failed. Dean couldn’t catalogue Cas’ expression, but he didn’t look mad, so that was something at least. 

“Cas?”

“I think I would like that,” Cas finally smiles, and although it's a small one, barely a quirk of the lips, it's more than Dean has seen in a while. Warmth radiates in his chest. 

“That’s great Cas. We’ll have to get you trained a little bit before we bring you along. I know you’re a badass,” Dean continues when Cas opens his mouth, “but I mean the human stuff that you probably wouldn’t think of. Like how to act like a cop, and use guns and knives - stuff like that.”

Cas’ small smile fades, a look of worry and embarrassment crossing his sharp features. Dean doesn’t know what he said wrong, but he feels guilt gnaw at his stomach all the same.  _ Why does he always say the wrong thing? _

“I’m sorry,” Cas whispers, and it’s the vulnerable tone that Dean only ever hears late at night, when they’re both battling insomnia and trying to make sense of things together. They’ve never brought up their night time talks, Dean never really saw a need to, but the mix of daylight hours and Cas’ look of open anguish make him a jumbled mess inside. He wants to help, he wants to comfort, but he’s so  _ afraid _ . 

Afraid of the type of comfort that he wants to give. Afraid of Cas rejecting it.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Cas repeats. And the distress in his voice makes the decision for Dean. His hand moves before he’s thought the action all the way through, and then Cas’ cold hand is clasped tightly in his own. Dean waits for rejection with bated breath. 

It never comes. Instead, Cas squeezes Dean’s hand like it’s a lifeline. Dean squeezes back, and the rush of emotions that tumble through him is enough to make him breathless. Dean doesn’t know much about how to handle this, or what to think, but he knows that in his life he’s never felt such a sense of rightness. 

It feels like coming home.

Cas doesn’t say anything more for a few seconds. The quiet of the library usually grates on Dean’s nerves, but this silence isn’t indefinite. Dean can hear the frequency of Cas’ thoughts as he gathers them, and knows that he’s searching for the words. That’s not like the Cas from the beginning. The Cas that Dean first met had words abundantly. Always a reason, always an excuse. That had dropped off the longer they knew the angel, the more unsure Cas became of his role in God’s plan. Human Cas picked words carefully, always, and with intention.

“I...have never felt useless before,” Cas starts, his natural rasp even heavier with his anxiety. “In Heaven, there is no such thing as useless. Every angel has a purpose - we were created for a purpose.” Cas lets out a harsh breath. “I have no purpose now, Dean. I...I don’t know how to understand  _ existing  _ without having something to work towards.”

Dean hated this side of Cas, he decided, because it was just a rough imitation of emotions that Dean knew all too well. Dean understood, intimately, the feeling Cas was describing. Dean has never lived for himself. He lived to protect Sammy, he lived for his Dad, he lived for Bobby. He lived for every innocent person they managed to save with their job. Other people were his purpose.

This moment, with Cas’ hand held firmly in his own, might be the only moment Dean’s ever done for himself. And wasn’t that just selfish, using Cas’ pain as a way to be closer to something he wanted? Dean was sure he never hated himself more.

“Cas.” Dean turns fully to face Cas, pulling his hand from the other man’s. “You’re human now, which means that you are  _ living _ , not just existing. And the only person you can live for is yourself.” Dean was a hypocrite, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t aware of the healthy alternative to his own coping. “It’s now your job, not God’s or Michael’s or anyone else's, to find your purpose - or passion as we humans like to call it.”

Cas looked pained, but he nods anyway. Cas’ eyes were dull and Dean inexplicably felt like crying, which just made him angry. He  _ wasn’t  _ a crier, goddammit.

“I’ve always...” Cas trails off uncertainty. The other man’s eyes lock with Deans. “Ever since the beginning, I’ve always admired what you and Sam do. I realize it's not the ‘apple pie life’.” Affection wells up in Dean’s chest at Cas’ use of air quotations. He got it right this time too, he must have practiced. Ridiculous man. “But it’s noble and selfless and  _ good.  _ You are good.” Cas reaches his hand out, hesitantly, like he can see right through Dean down to his soul and  _ knows.  _

It’s Cas’ caution - mixed with the hopeful shine in his eyes - that makes Dean mirror him. It should feel bad, or too terrifying, but it isn’t. And maybe Dean has always known it would be easy. Maybe that’s part of why it’s so scary.

Nothing good ever comes easy. Nothing good ever  _ stays. _

Dean sets his hand in Cas’ now warm grip once again and he thinks that maybe he was always meant to do this.

“I want to be good too, Dean. I want to do something good - actually good - because even when I was an angel, I see now that it wasn’t good. I wasn’t good, Dean.” Cas’ voice started to become ragged with distress, his eyes so pained that Dean feels it like a physical blow. A punch to the gut. A knife through his fuckinig heart.

“Cas,” Dean squeezes the other man’s hand hard. “Remember when I told you to never change?” Dean waits for Cas to nod before continuing. “When I said that, I didn’t mean I wanted you to stay an angel or some shit. I meant  _ you _ . You were the best of them, Cas, and when I said that I meant it. I don’t ever want you to change, okay? You  _ are  _ good. Even Gabriel said so. Hell, even Balthazar said so - the smug British bastard.” Cas chuckles faintly.

Dean goes silent, and they sit for a few minutes, hands clasped together. The silence isn’t awkward. It feels peaceful. Healing. Dean feels embarrassed just a bit at how he went girl mode with talking about emotions, but can’t find it in himself to regret it as he sneaks a look at Cas. He looks better - less dull. 

“Thank you, Dean,” he murmurs eventually, flashing a smile. Returning that smile is as easy as breathing.

“Sammy would be so proud of me for this chick flick moment.” Cas chuckles with more substance this time and it sends delight singing through Dean. “Don’t tell him okay? He might start trying to have more of them with me.” Dean gives a mock shiver of fear.

“I still don’t understand that reference, but Sam told me that they come from ‘Hallmark movies’,” Cas pauses at Dean’s derisive snort. Cas raises an eyebrow and Dean pretends it’s not an attractive expression on him. “Sam has told me that they are very good.”

“Samantha lied. Trust me, Cas, they are  _ so  _ boring and there’s usually about ten moments where the main character says “we can’t be together” and then in the next minute goes “we can’t stay apart” and there’s no  _ action,  _ Cas. How do you watch a movie with no action?”

He turns his eyes back to Cas, thinking of going for a disgusted look, but the fondness that greets him in the blue takes his breath away. Cas is just smiling and staring and Dean feels bared open for some reason. Cas has seen his literal soul, has actually gazed at the deepest part of Dean, but this moment feels somehow bigger than then. 

Cas hums but doesn’t say anything. Dean feels lightheaded. Time to get back on track before he has the chance to do anything stupid.

“Well, lets go talk to Sam. We need to get a schedule set up for your training and figure out what weapons to start you on. The fun stuff,” Dean wiggles his eyebrows. Cas nods all serious and Dean wants to hug him. 

“Yes,” Cas lets Dean pull him up from the chair, giving a final squeeze before letting go. “I am excited to have the prospect of work again.”

“I have a feeling you’re going to be pretty badass with a machete,” Dean tells him as they exit the library. He listens to Cas very studiously tell him the structural similarities between a machete and an angel blade. 

“I imagine their weight distribution is very similar, even if the blades are different in shape.”

And Dean falls just a bit farther.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! I'm sure you can see the vague direction I have this going in, but any prompt ideas are welcome! Thanks for reading!


End file.
